Carried by the Wind
by Lady Raeyner
Summary: This is a fic. based on 'The Secret Garden.' Mary is with Dickon. Things get interesting and mysterious between them...read and review please.
1. Thoughts of Dickon

            **Disclaimer**: I don't own anything

**Thoughts of Dickon and Sounds in the Wind**

It was winter on the moor. All the trees were barren and stiff, and the ground was covered in a light, feathery snow. The wind whipped wildly around the outer walls of Misselthwaite Manor. A bright fire burned gaily in the fireplace around which sat Mary and her cousin Colin. They had been talking all night as neither one could sleep with the storm raging on outside. 

            Mary got up from her sitting position and walked over to the latched windows. Taking the window coverings in her hand, she pulled them aside and squinted out into the sea of whiteness. "It's terribly frightful out there." Even inside, she had to talk loud to be heard over the whistling of the wind. "Hear the wind?"

            "Yes Mary." Colin sounded impatient and bored. He always sounded that way. 

            Mary eagerly went on. "Isn't it something? The wind?"

            "What ever are you talking about cousin?" He turned from the fire and joined Mary by the window. 

            "Why, the _wind_ Colin, the wind." Her cousin stared blankly at her. " Oh never mind. It's not important."

            "I don't understand you sometimes Mary."

            Mary scowled at this and flopped onto the floor. The heavy drapes fell back to the window with a loud 'thud.'  Why did Colin have to be so simple minded? He never looked deeper into things. He always just saw the outside. After five years at Misselthwaite Mary had learn that it was rather hard to convince Colin of anything that required too much imagination. Whenever she tried to share something beautiful with him, like the wind tonight, it went right over his head. He was content with having his father back, and he wanted nothing more. 

            If Dickon were here, he would understand what Mary heard in the wind. Dickon found all the wonders in everything. That what was so perfect about him. She sighed at the thought of Dickon and thought back to the garden. It was Dickon who had taught her how to see everything in nature; how to make things grow. Just as with every passing moment her love for him grew stronger and stronger. 

            "Mary? _Mary?_" Colin was calling to her.

            "Wha- oh, Colin. Yes, what is it now?" She hated when her cousin became demanding and sour like he was now.

            "Do you want some tea?"

            "Isn't it a little late for tea?" Actually, tea would have been very nice, but he was starting to irritate her and she felt the urge to do the same to him.

            "Well I just thought it would be nice."

            "You have your tea Colin. I'm going to bed!" Mary proclaimed as she quickly stood up and made her way to the door.

            "To bed? Whatever for?" If there was one thing Colin hated, it was being walked out on like Mary was doing now.

            "Yes Colin, to bed. It's what one does when one is tired."  She put an exaggerated expression of fatigue on her face. "Good night." She gave a stomp of her foot to further frustrate her cousin and spun on her heel, her skirts twirling around her ankles. 

            Halfway down the hallway she ran into something. "Eh, Miss Mary, is tha' you?"

            "Sorry Martha." Mary grinned at the young maid. "It's awfully hard to see in the corridors." 

            "Right ye are Miss. I was just comin' down to fetch ye. I thought it was about time you two got some rest." She held up her lantern and said in her usual, cheery manner, "And I brought ye a light. I knew it would be hard to find yer way back with most of the lights blown out from the drafts."

            "Thank you Martha."

            "Right, well come along then Miss."

They walked silently through the damp corridors. Martha was right; a chilling draft swept its way through the old house. The lantern flickered and the light softened, but at last they had reached Mary's room. "In yeh go then Miss."

"Good night Martha." Mary gave the girl a hug.

"Good night Miss Mary. Sleep well. An' don' forget to close the curtain around yer bed to keep warm."

"Alright Martha. Thank you again." Mary entered her room and listened as Martha's footsteps slowly died away outside her door. She slipped out of her dress and pulled on her nightgown. The cold swept over her like a fever and she immediately got into bed, pulling the curtains closed and burying herself under the covers. 

"Much better," she mused to herself. 

The wind was now howling outside. Mary shuddered to think about how cold it must be out beyond the walls of Misselthwaite. Once again she found herself thinking about Dickon. 'I do hope Dickon is not out somewhere on the moor. No, he would have known the storm was coming. I'm sure he got back home before it hit.' But she found herself worrying about him all the same. She was muttering to herself, trying to reassure his safety. 'Dickon knows what he's doing. He's so smart, so perfect…" She was drifting off to sleep now. 'Mmm, what a queer wind.' 

Above the howling, the soft, melodic tune of a flute had reached her ears. But the night had consumed Miss Mary, and the song was lost on her slumber.


	2. Snowball Fights

            **Disclaimer:** Nothing has changed, I still don't own anything. Not the characters, not the original plot, just this story.

**Snowball Fights**

Mary woke up to a strange silence. The lack of sound compared to the night before was near deafening.  She dragged herself out from under the covers only to be greeted by a rush of cold air that sent her flying back into the warmth. 

"You'll have to come out sometime Miss Mary. Don' want to keep my Dickon waiting." Martha had gathered herself by the window after setting down Mary's breakfast tray. In her lap she held a blanket.

"Is Dickon waiting for me?"           

"Aye, that he is. Would tha' be wanting tha' breakfast now then?"

"Alright then." Reluctantly Mary pulled herself away from the covers but was grateful when Martha came up from her position and wrapped the blanket tightly around her.

"Hurry up and eat then. You'll be wanting to play out in the snow I su'pose."

"Yes, the snow!" Mary ran to the window. It was absolutely magnificent. Everything was covered in white.  The brilliance of it all was blinding. 

"You'll be out in it soon enough. Eat up! You'll need energy, Miss."

"Right." She say down and practically inhaled her porridge and gulped down her milk.

"My, we were hungry." Martha took the tray up and made her way to the door. "I'll be waiting downstairs for you to see you off then."

Dickon was waiting for! In all actuality, this wasn't a strange occurrence. Dickon often waited for her in the mornings, and then they would go out into the gardens together. 

Several months ago, though, his mother became very ill. Dickon was by her side every day, but in the end, she passed on. It was hard on everyone, even Mary, for his mother was always so kind to her. But it was hardest on Dickon. Since he was the oldest left at the house, it was up to him to care for the other children. Of course when Lord Craven found out about this, he immediately hired a Governess for the children and Dickon was free to go about, as he liked. Mary had hardly seen him since then, and when she did, it was always awkward. He had even stopped waiting for her in the mornings. But now he was waiting for her! Mary's heart sang with joy as she pulled on a heavy wool dress and her winter boots. She threw open the door to her room and ran down the stairs, stopping only to have Martha help her pull on her coat and hand her gloves, hat, and a scarf.

"Off ye go then Miss Mary." Martha waved cheerily to her as she skipped outside into the morning air.

Her feet crunched loudly in the thickly caked snow. She shivered silently in the cold, but after several moments outside she began to adjust to the weather shock. Looking down at the ground, she noticed footprints, obviously Dickon's, but as to where he was, she didn't know.

"Dickon? Why Dickon where have you gone off to?" She called playfully. Only the sound of wind greeted her ears. "I know you're out here!" She dragged out the sentence, making it last long and loud over the gentle breeze. Mary stood there for several minutes, idly tugging at her hat, before she decided to search for her friend in the gardens. 'I do hope he hasn't run off. I would so like to see him' she thought frantically.

"Why Mistress Mary, I've been waiting for you." Dickon laughed as he snuck up behind Mary, grabbing her around the waist and causing her to squeal in surprise. 

"Oh Dickon! You scared me!"

"Well tha's good. I meant to!" They were in a fit of laughter now, each vaguely aware of how close they were to each other. Mary wrestled herself out from his firm grip and bent down to make a snowball when she caught his eye and the laughter died down. 

"None of that Miss Mary." He said, catching the look of sympathy in here eyes. "It is a glorious day, and we should enjoy it!" 

They sat a moment more, as Dickon silently shared with her his thoughts, and they came to an understanding. Dickon's mother was not to be mentioned, and he was okay. His heart was healed. And then Mary threw the first ball of snow. 

It was a brilliant fight. Stunning really. One would throw, the other would duck, and then came the counter attacks.  It lasted all morning, and by the end of it, they sat collapsed in the gardens breathing heavily and covered in wet snow. 

Mary stole at glance at Dickon, who was gazing up into the clear sky. 

"What do you see up there, Dickon?" She asked him quietly. 

He looked at her thoughtfully, studying her face. Finally he broke into a smile. "Everything," he said.

"I wish I could see everything in the sky."

"Have you ever tried?" As she began to shake he head 'no,' he cupped her chin in his hand and tilted her head upwards. "Every story, every dream you have ever heard or thought of is right up there."

"Can other people see my dreams in the sky Dickon?"

"Never. Not unless you want them to." He regarded her seriously. "What is it that you're keeping secret Miss Mary? Not another garden?"

She laughed lightly. "No, not another garden."

"You're cold, come here." She was visibly shaking now. Stiffly, she shifted her weight towards him and he wrapped his arms around her, hugging her tightly to share his warmth with her. "Tha's better, isn't is?" She nodded. 

"Back to this secret then."

Mary tried to play innocent. "I haven't the slightest idea what you're talking about." Dickon looked at her pointedly. 'He knows' Thought Mary. "It's obvious then, isn't it?" she said out loud. "Am I a fool, Dickon, for loving you?"

"Far from a fool Mary," he whispered into her ear. She titled her head back onto his shoulder to look into his face better. Dickon lowered his head and their lips met, ever so gently-

"Mary! Dickon! Where are you?" Colin's voice echoed off the stonewalls of the gardens. The two broke away, and with one last glance at Dickon, Mary scrambled away to meet her cousin.

"Over here Colin!" She was greeted by a snowball, knocking off her hat and causing her to give a scream from the cold.

"I'm going to get you Colin Craven!" Another snowball fight had begun.

Later that day the three friends sat merrily in front of the fire, all wrapped in warm blankets.

"Did you three 'ave fun then?"

Dickon replied to his sister's question. "It's wonderful out there Martha."

"Aye, I know that. But did you 'ave _fun?_"

"Of course we had fun." Spoke up Colin.

"Well tha's good. I brought you three some 'ot chocolate. Nice and warm it is."

"Thank you Martha." 

"Oh Dickon, I found this in the corridor." She held out his carved flute.

"Aye, thank you sister." He took the delicate instrument in his hands.

"Well why don' you play somethin' for us?"

He brought the flute to his lips and began playing a light tune. It was unfamiliar to the group, but they made up words and sang along anyways. When he stopped, Martha exclaimed, "Oh that was lovely, where did you learn that one Dickon?"

He laughed nervously. "I've never played it before, nor heard it in my life."

"Well it was wonderful."

He began to play again, with Martha and Colin singing happily to the song, but Mary sat in silence. She _knew _that song. She knew she did. She had heard it before, somewhere.

And then she knew. It was the song from the night before; the song that had been carried by the wind.


	3. Fireside Mayhem

**Disclaimer:**  Nothing has changed, I still don't own anything. Not the characters, not the original plot, just this story.

Sorry it took me so long to get another chapter up. I thought I would have time before, but schoolwork caught up with me. And the writer's block didn't help. I know where I'm going with the rest of the story though, but I will probably only be able to update on weekends. Tell me what you think of this chapter please! And thanks to my reviewers for the previous chapters. *Big grin* On to the chapter!

Fireside Mayhem 

She didn't have much time to let her new found knowledge sink in. 

"Stop! _Stop!"_ The door had swung open with a bang to reveal Lord Craven standing in its frame, wildly mad. His face was drawn out in horror, his eyes wide, and his skin ghostly pale. The hand that held open the door shook slightly against the wood. Dickon appeared genuinely frightened and brought the flute down from his lips to rest in his lap. For a few seconds there was silence in the room with only the light hiss and crackling of the fire to ease everyone's minds. Mary glanced anxiously at Colin and Martha as Craven took a deep breath and began to speak. His voice was strained and quiet now, it seemed to Mary as if he was trying to keep his temper leashed. "Dickon, my boy," he began, taking another breath, "Where did you learn that song?"

"I don' know sir." Dickon forced himself to bring his gaze from the floor "I jus' started playing it." He hoped that answer was good enough, because he had no other to give.

"Find a new song to play than, please." Mary noted that there were tears forming in his moist eyes now, and his voice was somewhat trembling. "I will not have that song heard in my house. Do you hear me?" The sudden jump from quiet to loud that the last statement made had everyone a bit taken aback. 

"Yes-yessir."

Craven then turned away from them and walked out, letting the door slam loudly behind him. They all listened in shock as the sound of his footsteps died away into the depths of the corridor. Dickon slowly reached for his flute and held it in his hands gingerly before pocketing it. Martha brought her cup of hot chocolate up to her mouth and sipped it slowly, letting each drop trickle down her throat slowly to calm her nerves. No one knew quite what to say. Lord Craven never was so angry these days, not since before Mary's arrival had Martha seen him so worked up.  

"He said for Dickon to stop playing the song, not for everyone to keep quiet," ventured Mary. She was the most outspoken of the four, and she wasn't about to let her uncle's anger keep everyone mute. "I do wonder what he was so shaken about though. Come Dickon, pull out your flute again. Let's hear something different." She wasn't going to let them see just how shaken _she _was over the whole thing.

            "I don' know Mary. I think it's best I don' play anymore tonight."

            Mary sighed audibly and pushed herself to her feet to walk over to stand by the hearth. She let her hands wander freely over the intricate carvings that bordered the fireplace as her fingers traced a vine that dominated the pattern. "You know," she began, "I believe I have heard that song before."

            " 'Ave you then? Where?" Came Martha's voice timidly.

            "Sometime ago," she said carefully. "I can't quite place it. But I've heard it, that's for sure." She turned to Dickon and smiled. "It really is beautiful though Dickon, you play it wonderfully. I can't imagine why Uncle could be so upset with it. I do wish he'd be less vague." She continued to trace the vine on the fireplace and watch the flames jump energetically around the charred logs. She thought she heard Dickon answer her, but she couldn't be sure. Was it Martha's voice speaking now? Mary couldn't make herself concentrate on what she was hearing. She felt her eyelids begin to flutter closed as her hand felt a chip in the wood before she sunk to the floor.

            _She was in the garden, only spring had come and the bright sun shone high overhead making everything glow beautifully in the golden light. Everything was lush and green as it had been every spring since Mary had reawakened the garden. She could hear voices and happy laughter coming from the center of the garden, and she made her way lazily across the dirt path under the shade to where she knew she would find the presence of people._

_            The voices got louder and clearer and she could hear a man and a woman speaking gaily. She didn't know the woman's voice, but she recognized the man's as her uncle. Mary crouched down behind a bunch of bushes, and, reaching out a hand, pulled several branched aside so she could peer through and observe the couple. Know she knew the woman, it was her aunt. She was so beautiful here, among the flowers that she loved and cared for. She looked like the belonged there, a most rare flower among her roses and flowering trees. She was sitting daintily on the swing with her husband behind her, gently rocking the swing back and forth to the rhythm of a song they were singing. After sometime their song died down the woman giggled in delight at their happiness. _

_            "I have something for you, my dear," Mr. Craven said. He reached down into his coat pocket and pulled something out with care. _

_            "Oh, a gift? How lovely." The woman accepted the tiny package and gently pulled on the string that held brown paper around it. She let out a long sigh as she saw the beautiful music box that was now in her hands. She lifted the lid with care and smiled the most beautiful smile Mary had ever seen as a charming melody floated over the garden. _

            "She shouln' 'ave been standing so close to the fire." Mary was extremely groggy, but she could make out Martha's muffled concerns through the heavy draperies that hung from the canopy of her bed. Mary sat up on her elbows and stretched her neck out curiously to hear better. "The poor thing 'ad too much heat, thas all Mr. Craven."

            Mr. Craven sounded just as worried and almost regretful. "I shouldn't have frightened the child so."

            Mary could almost hear the smile in Martha's voice as she responded. "She is neither a child nor frightened, sir. She'll be all right. Go get some rest sir, by mornin' the little lady will be up an' about, I'm sure of it." They moved towards the door and Mary heard her uncle thank Martha and then walk off. Soon the curtains of her bed opened and Martha's bright face peered in at her. "Ah, I thought you were awake. 'Ad a bit of a heat spell, didn't we?" She tugged on the curtains some to open them more and went to get a glass of water that was set on a table across from Mary's bed. " 'Ere now, drink this. It's jus' some water, but it's nice an' cool an' you'll feel much better after drinkin' it."

            Mary took the glass readily and began drinking. "What happened Martha?"

            "Nothin' to get excited about Miss. Only you were too close to the fire and it made you a little dizzy an' you fainted. Yer all right now. A little rest and some more water will do the trick." She got a pitched of water form the table to refill Mary's glass. "Of course, you did give us a bit of a scare. I let out a small scream, you see, that's why yer uncle came runnin.' Dickon wanted to stay an' make sure you were okay, but I sent him home."

            Mary nodded quietly. She was thinking about the dream she had. "Martha, I think I would like to rest some now."

            "Of course Miss. I'll be around in the mornin' for yeh."

            So what did you think? Do you like it at all? Next chapter coming soon. 


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